ANAMNESIS
Gideon Emmanuel
Here in a switchblade of silence
a child flutters in nakedness like brown leaves between anger
& forgiveness,
a cockpit too heavy to drive his fate
in a railroad where memory is a drunk driver.
He's imagined being seen in the night beams
In the hidden shadows & shades of guilt,
Like to say “mother, the sun comes,
I'll go into hiding to avoid being burnt a second time”.
I've observed the slavery of forgetfulness lashed with the stings
of bonding in his voice. How the heart never breaks down like a black box
even when the body is extinct.
Let's pretend that time is why there is no
distinction between life & death when we sleep. Last poem I
wrote about a friend who I met in the market selling fruits, unaware
that his mother, already sick at noon,
hung herself to the ceiling because her son
had planted fireballs of un-forgiveness
in his heart & how maybe they flared up in her & now a
slight hunger for grief & change sprouts lately in him.
Too sad, alas, guilt visits the body as if a feast
of honey infested scars.


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